


The Fears and Joys of Being Known

by blackcoffee13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, F/M, Smut, Snape Lives!AU, fast but lasting romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffee13/pseuds/blackcoffee13
Summary: There's a new Apothecary Shoppe in Barton Hollow, and the man behind the counter is tall and dark and brooding with a voice as smooth as silk... And his life is about to be forever changed.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 46
Kudos: 368
Collections: Snape Bigbang 2019





	The Fears and Joys of Being Known

There’s a new Apothecary Shoppe in Barton Hollow, a small magical community nestled in the heart of the Appalachians that’s about as far removed from the War and everything and everyone associated with it as a person could want.

Most of America, to be frank, is removed from the War. They want no part of it, not again, not after what Grindelwald tried to do to them nearly a century before. Sure, perhaps there are a few sympathizers - and maybe even a few who sympathize with Voldemort - but they keep their heads down and ignore the struggles of their friends across the pond.

Perhaps it’s easier that way. Easier, at least, for some.

Easier for a man trying to escape it all, for certain.

Death, you see, had not been kind to Severus Snape.

He very vividly remembered dying, remembered the pain that gave way to a terrible cold numbness, remembered giving Potter his memories, remembering drawing his last breath…

And then, very suddenly, he was breathing again, taking in gulps of air that set his chest on fire and made his heart pound in terror.

He was afraid to be alive, that much he knew, because if Voldemort returned, found him there…

Severus knew he would wish for something as sweet as pain later on.

He was still within Hogwarts grounds, so he knew he couldn’t Apparate out, but he was also still technically the Headmaster, so he did the most logical thing he could think of.

And summoned a House Elf.

A tiny little thing in a flower-embroidered tea cosy popped up beside him a moment later and let out a squeak of terror, ears that were almost larger than it was shooting straight up off it’s head in an almost comical way.

“Headmaster, sir! How can Cuedee be of service?”

“...take me… _please_ ”

“Take you where, sir?”

“S-Spinner’s End…”

And just like that, he was lying on the floor in the house he’d grown up in.

He remembered thinking the carpet smelled moldy before he passed out again.

When he came to several hours later - still cursing the fact that he was somehow alive - it was in his bed. He’d been stripped of his clothing, the wound on his neck dressed, and there was a glass of ice water on the table beside him.

There also seemed to be a couple of additional house elves. Either that, or Severus was seeing quadruple.

“Headmaster is awake!”

“I’m not the headmaster anymore. You don’t need to call me that.”

“You is not dead,” Cuedee reminded him with a cheerful squeak. “And that means you still Headmaster! Cuedee must make you better!”

_Merlin, the elf has adopted me._

So, Snape lived, but no one knew it. Which was fine by him. Brilliant even. He was tired of answering to men on egotrips who didn’t care about him, and wanted to live his life according to his own rules.

Snape wanted somewhere far away from Britain and the War and Harry _bloody_ Potter and all the rest of them, and he found it. He cleaned out his vault at Gringott’s - the goblins didn’t ask questions of house elves coming to claim things on behalf of their masters no matter their status of living, it seemed - packed up the few belongings he had and set out for somewhere new.

Wearing a series of complicated glamors and a low end Notice Me Not, he booked passage to the States, landing in New York and immediately heading south, wanting something quieter, something where he could live his life with as little chance of being noticed as possible.

It took him several weeks before he stumbled upon Barton Hollow, a small town that reminded him painfully of Hogsmeade except there was no school nearby to overshadow it.

It was simply a small, magical community with friendly people.

People who were in need of a good Apothecary.

But he couldn’t just _open up_ an Apothecary Shoppe without the proper credentials, without having the wares to actually sell to them, so Snape did what any sensible wizard would do.

No, not import the ingredients directly from somewhere else. He wanted these people to trust him, and they couldn’t do that if he didn’t trust his own product.

No. Snape bought a little cabin a few miles outside of town, a place smack in the middle of the woods, but there was a bit of open land adjacent where he could start a garden, could start planting the things he’d want to sell.

It took time, and a decent amount of it, but there’s a new Apothecary Shoppe in Barton Hollow.

The man behind the counter is tall and dark and brooding, but his voice is low and smooth as silk. He’s serious about what he’s selling, but he’s fair. Honest.

The locals quickly learned that his knowledge is vast. Far more vast than it seemingly has any right to be, and he doesn’t seem to judge anyone for their reason for seeing him.

There’s whispers that he’s the best person in town to help with any sort of female problems. That if you’ve got cramps, or hot flashes, he can tell you exactly what you need to brew and for how long and it _works_.

Witch Weekly doesn’t have a thing on Sebastian Snode. He likes reminding his patrons of that.

After a few years, they’ve grown accustomed to him, and some of them have become regulars enough that they like to imagine his smirk is reserved just for them.

He isn’t the prettiest of men to look at - and how can he handle wearing so much clothing even in the heat of summer?! - but a few of the single women like spending time in his shop, like asking him questions and seeing if perhaps they can tempt him to coming round for dinner.

He always politely turns them down.

In fact, it seems as if nothing can quite shake Sebastian Snode out of his privacy, not even Miss Harker’s famous peach cobbler.

Which is why, nearly five years after he’d moved in, it came as something of a shock to see him, well…

Yelling. Loudly. With a curly-headed witch just outside his shoppe doors. Everyone within a solid block can hear them, and what they’re yelling about doesn’t make much sense.

“You _died_ , sir!”

“This isn’t the ti-”

“I saw your body! I checked your bloody _pulse_!”

“Granger!”

The witch was still trying to yell, but Sebastian had noticed the curious onlookers and had pulled out his wand to cast a spell around them so they couldn’t be heard before he took the still-presumably-yelling witch by the elbow and pulled her into his shoppe.

And immediately locked the doors and put the closed sign up.

No one saw them again for the rest of the day, much to their collective disappointments.

“What the ever-loving _fuck_ are you doing here, Granger?”

“I’m here on a research assignment! You’re the one who’s supposed to be dead and buried on the Hogwarts grounds!”

“I’m _what?_ ”

“That’s what Harry told us!”

Snape rolled his eyes at the witch. “Oh, and of course Saint Potter could never tell a lie.”

“It’s been almost _six years_ , professor.”

“...I’m not your professor anymore, Granger, so stop that.”

“Well, what am I supposed to call you?”

“I have a name, you know.”

“You want me to call you Severus?”

“It’s Sebastian now, actually. Sebastian Snode.”

Hermione suddenly looked simultaneously amused and horrified by his name.

“...Sebastian Snode?”

“I own things that are monogrammed, and they’re such a pain to change.”

She looked a bit more amused then.

“So, you want me to call you Sebastian, then?”

“If you must. Though I would assume that you’re just passing through and this is a one time interaction?”

Hermione was staring at him, suddenly looking… Less amused.

“Granger…”

“I told you I’m here doing research, sir, and that’s the truth.”

“Research on what?”

“Salamanders. There’s a handful of breeds that are native to this part of the world only, and I’m trying to see if they could potentially be bred in captivity so they could be taken back to England. We both know how beneficial salamanders can be to Potions, after all…”

“Are you studying Potions then, Granger? Consider me impressed.”

Hermione gave a small shrug. “I’m sort of dual-Mastering, actually. I’m focusing primarily on Potions at the moment, but I’m also doing some side studying in Arithmancy for that Masters as well.”

Snape snorted. “You always were an ambitious child. It’s not surprising that you’ve turned into an over-achieving adult as well.”

“That’s a little rude.”

“I never said I wasn’t a rude man, Granger. Have you forgotten that fact?”

Hermione blushed suddenly, a sight that threw Severus off a bit.

“No, sir. I haven’t.”

While the townspeople didn’t see Snape and Hermione leave, the duo did, in fact, manage to escape, and while Hermione was thinking that she probably should’ve been a bit hesitant to join the man for dinner, she did.

He said he wanted to apologize for his rudeness and wanted to explain his actions, his disappearance.

Maybe he also wanted to learn a thing or two about her as well. Was perhaps craving a genuine connection with someone who knew who he really was.

Or, at least, knew who he used to be.

For a night, at least, he didn’t have to be Sebastian Snode. It was _odd_ how much he wanted it, and a part of him wondered what exactly was going on, but it was happening, and he wasn’t going to stop it.

They were halfway through both the chicken he’d roasted and a bottle of wine when he’d finally finished telling her about his escape from Hogwarts and then travels to the states when he turned to look at her with a heavy note of curiosity in his black eyes.

“I am aware that you’re here for research purposes, Granger, but I am perhaps a bit surprised to see that you’re here alone.”

Hermione frowned at that. “Are you? I can’t imagine why…”

“You and your friends were always inseparable. I would have thought one of them would be here to watch over you if not both of them. Make sure you didn’t get into any trouble.”

She snorted in amusement. “Harry and Ron are quite happy with their Auror training. They graduate next month, actually, and Harry and Ginny are planning their wedding. They’re a bit too busy to watch over me, I’m afraid.”

She let out a little laugh then, crossing her arms and resting them on the table so she could lean forward onto them a bit. “Besides, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

Severus swallowed at that.

“I had thought that you and Mister Weasley had become an item. Is that… Not the case?”

Her frown returned and she gave a shake of her head, a couple of stray curls falling out of the pony tail she’d pull her hair up into earlier.

“Not… Not so much, no. We tried being together but… I think, in the end, we’re just too different. We want different things out of life. I love Ron, and I always will, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be _in_ love with Ron, if that makes any sense?”

_Painfully, yes._

Snape gave a nod at that, perhaps a touch surprised that the motion made him feel a bit wobbly, and he peered over at the wine bottle they’d been sharing.

Oh, well it was nearly empty now, wasn’t it?

Oh, and Granger was still talking…

“-’m just not sure love is really in the cards for me at this point, you know?”

Snape snorted. “You are not _nearly_ drunk enough to be so suddenly melancholy, Granger, of that I can assure you. You’re also far too young to have that sort of outlook on life.”

“How do you know?” She quipped, though there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “I could be just the proper amount of drunk. As for being young, well… What’s age got to do with it?”

“You’re a Gryffindor. Aren’t you all supposed to be gungho and perpetually in love and lust with life and everything and everyone in it?”

“Aren’t Slytherin’s supposed to be cynical and dark and never looking on the bright side of life?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “...did you just say that I **am** looking on the _bright side of life?_ ”

Granger suddenly hummed the ‘dum, de dum, de dum dah dah dah dum’ from _The Meaning of Life_ and Snape snorted in amusement.

“We’ve gotten to the point of the evening where we’re making Monty Python references, Granger. I think it’s time we called it quits before it calls time for us.”

Granger had the audacity to _giggle_ at that, blushing rather becomingly as she pushed herself to her feet and only teetered a little bit.

Despite her protests, though, Snape was gentlemanly enough to escort her to the door, and even went so far as to offer to escort her home, but she waved him off with a laugh.

“Honestly, Severus, I kept Harry Potter and Ron Weasley alive in the Forest of Dean for _months_ without issue - well, without _many_ issues - and I think I can find my way back to my room at the inn without getting myself killed.”

“Send up some red sparks if you need me, will you?”

She gave him a rude gesture and told him where he could shove those red sparks, but there was a sparkle in her eyes and _Merlin_ but he was bewitched with her, wasn’t he?

Was he really that starved for affection? For _attention_ , even?

Or was it the intimacy of being properly known for the first time in years that was doing it for him? That was making his heart skip a beat as he watched her take off down the road that would lead her back into town.

Granger had grown into a lovely young woman over the last six years, and there were parts of Severus that - despite the amount of alcohol in his system - were very keen on reminding him of that fact.

She was almost to the edge of where the light from his cabin reached into the blackness when he called out to her again, reminding her of the correct pronunciation of ‘Vermillious,’ laughing when she repeated the rude hand gesture at him over her shoulder, still holding it as she melted into the darkness around her.

What followed was, well… Quick.

But a couple of days after she’d arrived into town, Granger was back in the apothecary, this time in search of some ingredients for a potion she was brewing, the likes of which she wouldn’t describe to Severus, but which he was able to figure out fairly quickly.

“Honestly, Granger, do you think you’re the first witch to walk through that door who’s had cramps?”

She colored prettily again and huffed, but didn’t try to argue with him.

He recommended a few alternative ingredients to her - made a couple of others when she mentioned that she had a mild sensitivity to valerian root (how she managed to get through potions all those years without him noticing an allergy was a **wonder** ) - and then he rang up her purchases and watched her leave again.

She returned the next day to thank him and to talk about salamanders.

The day after that, she was in his cabin again, but this time so she could cook for him in a proper kitchen, and they both were a bit more careful with the wine.

Though, that begged the question of where their blushes came from at the end of the night when she made to leave and he helped her to her feet, his fingers _just_ brushing against her bare wrist before her hand slid properly into his.

A week after that, and they were having dinner again, and there was no question of where the blush came from at the end of the night this time.

There was a pause, when he first felt her lips against his cheek, another as he slowly turned his head to face her more directly, their noses bumping against one anothers - a feat not altogether difficult in his case - as they locked gazes and Severus knew even without his abilities what she wanted him to do.

So, he did it.

Severus had kissed before - had kissed a fair amount, actually - but had never really _enjoyed_ it. He’d never understood why people kissed just for the sake of kissing, had never understood why such a big deal was always made in Muggle movies about the First Kiss between two protagonists.

But kissing Hermione Granger, who tasted of wine and spices and sunshine, who was warm and alive and was kissing him back just for the sake of kissing him, well…

He understood it, suddenly.

It was difficult letting her go that evening, but somehow he managed it, even if his body was once again reminding him that she was a truly _delectable_ young witch who _obviously_ wanted him, too, and why wasn’t he _having her_ already?

That wouldn’t be for a few more weeks, after another dinner or two (or six) and a couple of **really** good kissing sessions that left both of them breathless and aching.

They were at the door, Hermione’s hand on the handle as she willed herself to leave, but just as she was starting to open the door, Severus pushed back against the heavy wood, closing it shut again and leaving his hand where it was, leaning over her a bit as she turned her head to peer at him over her shoulder.

“...Severus?”

“Stay, Hermione,” He murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “ _Please_.”

Slowly, the witch turned back around to face him, her body close enough that he could feel the heat coming off of her, could smell the mint of her shampoo, the hints of vanilla in her body cream, and that aching low in his belly grew.

“If I stay, I-I’m not sure I’ll leave again.”

He grinned, leaning closer to brush his nose against hers in what was quickly becoming a familiar gesture between them.

“And what, dear woman, would be the problem with that?”

Hermione hissed out his name at that, but her lips were already parted when he pushed his against them, both of them inhaling sharply as hands found hair and waists and fisted some in clothing and _Merlin_ but this witch’s bottom was perfect.

When Severus broke the kiss to start kissing a path down Hermione’s neck, he realized that he’d picked her up and had her pressed back against the door, her legs having wrapped around his waist sometime during all of that, and he gave her bottom a squeeze just before he carefully ground his hips against hers.

Hermione moaned his name, her eyes fluttering shut, and Severus couldn’t help the proud smirk that twisted his lips at the sound, but it was hidden a moment later when he continued on his previous journey of exploring her neck with his lips.

Her smell was stronger there at her pulse point, and he slowly ran his tongue over it, getting a hint of her taste for a moment before moving lower, though he couldn’t stop the growl that spilled out from deep in his throat when he ran into the collar of her shirt.

“You’re wearing too much clothing, witch.”

“That can be fixed, you know,” Hermione teased back, and Severus was once again pleased upon hearing the breathlessness of her tone.

Another moment and he’d hauled her more securely into his arms, carrying her from the front door back into the depths of his cabin and into his bedroom where he wasted no time in putting her back on her feet.

But then he paused for a moment, his hands falling to rest on her waist as he turned a more serious look towards her.

“Are you _sure_ about this, Hermione?” He gave her hips a squeeze to stop her from interrupting so he could continue. “Are you sure about _me_?”

“If I ask you to stop, will you? No matter what we’re doing?” Her hands slid up to gently cup his face. “ _Even if_ you’re ten seconds away from orgasm?”

“Even if I’m closer than that. You say stop, I stop.”

“Then _claim me_ , Severus Snape.”

Severus gave all of about two seconds to thinking ‘where the fuck has this woman been all my life?’ before giving in to her demands, his head dipping again to claim her lips as he gently started to push her back towards the bed.

Despite the earlier frenzied heat, what started to happen next was a slower thing, largely because Severus knew that it had been an indecently long time for him, and he wanted to make things good for his witch before he lost himself in the heat of her.

It was why he sat back some once she’d leaned back against his pillows, her hair a riotous mess that Severus took some pride in, and he had the passing thought that he’d never seen a sight more beautiful.

He told her as much as his fingers started to slowly flick open the buttons of her blouse, though he waited until they were all undone before he parted the fabric, revealing her skin to his eyes for the first time.

“Absolutely, _deliciously_ beautiful.”

Hermione bit down on her lip at that, staying still as she seemed to sense he wanted, her eyes fluttering closed again as Severus explored the dips and curves of her clavicles with the tips of his fingers, her back arching slightly when those digits glided over the soft swell of a breast.

“May I taste you, Hermione?”

“ _Please_...” She moaned, another gasp leaving her when Severus bent down to run his tongue along the space between her breasts, only hindered by the peach lace of her bra, though soon enough he gave into temptation and gently took one of the cups by the teeth and pulled it down, exposing the dusky peak to his gaze for the first time.

He let out another moan at the sight just before his lips locked around that peak, slowly and gently suckling for a moment, chuckling when he felt Hermione’s hands suddenly tighten in his hair and his hand found purchase on her other breast.

 _How are you this perfect?_ He thought to himself, wondering how she fit so delectably against him, how her whimpers and gasps created the most beautiful music he’d ever heard, how her taste…

His fingers slid lower, carefully testing out the feel of those scars across her abdomen, feeling her tense slightly when she realized what he was doing, but he pulled away from her breast to press his lips to hers again, silencing her just as much as he was reassuring her when his fingers continued to explore.

She curled into him, the two of them shifting some from where he’d been reclining against her side until he was kneeling between her legs, one of which came up to drape across his hip and lower back, holding him in place and making sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

As if he had anywhere else he wanted to be…

Slowly though, he withdrew again, coming up to a kneeling position again as he once more took in the sight of her before he lifted his hands to his throat to start undoing the myriad of buttons that hid his own body away, watching as Hermione peeled off her shirt and bra to leave her completely bare from the waist up.

He hesitated for a second, however, but realized that turnabout was fair play, and she deserved to see his scars if she could so bravely bare hers to him now.

Slowly, the layers came off, and first she would see the scar at his neck - the ugliest of them all - followed by others that littered his chest and shoulders from hexes and slashes and potions accidents.

She took him in, but it was clear by the darkness of her pupils that she was not displeased with what she was seeing, and another moment found her pulling him back towards her again, their lips once more crashing together as warm skin met warm skin for the first time.

It was his turn to gasp, though, when she pushed her hips up into his, the friction pulling forth a low growl when she repeated the gesture and his cock begged for her warmth.

“Patience…” He murmured, though whether he was speaking to her or to himself even he wasn’t sure.

She whimpered his name, though, playing dirty, and oh, but he was _definitely_ going to take his time now, another smirk suddenly twisting his lips as he pulled back to start kissing his way back down her neck and chest, on to her belly - lingering for a long moment on those scars - before he reached the button of her jeans.

He glanced up at her then, noting the way she’d propped herself up on her elbows to watch him, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair out of his eyes as she gave him a nod of consent.

Deft fingers made quick work of undoing the button and fly of her jeans before settling at her hips to start tugging the material down, not bothering to be slow - or even subtle - as he pulled both those and her panties down in one quick motion, tossing the offending fabric aside to probably land somewhere on the floor, but he absolutely didn’t care in that moment.

She didn’t even have time to try and push her thighs together in modesty as he was already pushing them further apart with his hands, giving the muscles a squeeze as his hungry gaze took her properly in and he licked his lips at the sight.

Hermione looked nervous, was biting down on her lower lip again, but Severus hardly noticed, his black eyes glittering in excitement with the sight of the feast laid out before him.

“Oh, but I _am_ going to enjoy this, witch,” He breathed, his voice far lower than normal, and he saw her shudder in anticipation just before he bent over to press a kiss to the inside of each thigh, another to the top of her pubic bone, and then he settled in.

Tasting her quim for the first time, smelling her, feeling that heat against his lips and then his tongue… It was better than Firewhiskey, better than Amorentia or Felix Felicis or or… He was at a loss for comparisons, because nothing _could_ compare.

Instead, he concentrated on her, on kissing and teasing and gently licking, listening out for what she liked and didn’t, occasionally even pulling back long enough to ask, always chuckling before he returned to her folds to do as she’d requested, though it wasn’t long before he’d figured out enough to anticipate her demands before she’d made them.

Like when he slowly slid a finger inside of her, testing her wetness, feeling her shudder and hearing her whimpers and gasps when he eased a second inside her a moment later, gently thrusting the digits in and out of her to relax her and prepare her for what was to hopefully come.

Plus, there was the added bonus of pulling more of her essence from her each time he removed his fingers, allowing him to taste her more fully, though it wasn’t long before he shifted his focus to her clitoris, timing his licks and sucks with the thrust of his fingers as he heard the hitch in his witch’s breath, felt the way she started to tremble against him, the way her legs tightened a bit against his shoulders with her impending climax.

His fingers found that thicker, spongy place inside of her and _rubbed_ his lips locked around her clit until she absolutely **shattered** beneath his ministrations, her cry of ecstasy ringing in his ears long after it had died off, and he noted with interest when he finally managed to pull himself away from her that little electric blue flames were dancing in her hair as the residuals of her orgasm mixed with her magic.

Maybe he was feeling a little bit smug about that, but why shouldn’t he?

Hermione’s hands were still trembling slightly when she reached for him, her motions languid as she pulled him back up towards her for a kiss that he was more than happy to give her, though it was his turn to shudder when she slid a hand down his back to cup his bottom and pull his hips into hers again.

“...I think it’s time you shed your trousers, Severus.”

“I won’t last long,” He admitted as he once again brushed his nose against hers, his voice low and honest. “It’s been some time since I last partook in this sort of intimacy.”

“I don’t care,” Hermione countered, grinding her hips up against his as if to emphasize her point, and Severus let out a low, needy moan at the shock that ran up his spine with the contact.

“Witch-” His forehead dropped to rest against her shoulder, his muscles stiff as he fought the urge to grind down against her.

“I want you, Severus. I _need_ you…” She’d turned her head to whisper breathily in his ear, and _Merlin_ but this witch was perfect. “...I don’t care if you cum as soon as you’re inside of me, just as long as you’re _inside of me_ , okay?”

He responded by kissing her again, kissing her thoroughly, kissing her _soundly_ , and only when he was sure he was going to pass out if he didn’t stop did he pull back again to peer down at her.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Bloody _hell_ , Severus-” Hermione giggled at him. “-but take off your trousers already!”

Maybe he was laughing along with her, his dark eyes glittering in the lower light of the room, but he did as she requested, albeit somewhat reluctantly because it meant he had to pull back away from her warm body to do so.

But his hands reached for the button and fly of his trousers, and he was a bit surprised to notice that his own fingers were trembling a bit, probably in anticipation, but he stalled when Hermione sat up and reached out to help him, moving to kneel in front of him as she carefully pushed the fabric down his hips, her touch gentle - dare he say loving? - as she freed his erection and then helped him strip the rest of the way down.

“...can I touch?” She whispered, her hands once more settling on his hips as warm, chocolate eyes met inky, glittering black.

“Gently,” He agreed with a small nod, his eyes sliding shut as he hissed when her fingers just barely grazed along the top of his cock, slowly wrapping around him to get a feel for his girth before she gave him a long, slow stroke.

He gasped her name, mouth falling open when she repeated the gesture. “I-I can’t- I _won’t_ -”

“Sssh… I’ve got you,” She crooned, pushing him until he was the one on his back, still leaning over him as she stroked him, though it seemed like she knew the line she walked because she was careful not to push him too far.

“I meant what I said, Severus,” She murmured, and his eyes opened to peer up at her, noting the way she’d taken to straddling him, holding his cock in hand as she braced herself with the other against his chest, and his own hands settled on her hips as she slowly started to lower herself down onto him.

“You’ll - oh! - you’ll be insi-inside me when you cum…” Her eyes had fluttered shut, a look of concentration and obvious _enjoyment_ crossing her features as she slowly sank down, letting herself grow used to the feel of him for the first time, and Severus was again reminded of how stunningly beautiful she was.

But there was that sense of being enveloped, of wet heat surrounding him, of a tightness he was sure he was going to die from if he was ever without it, and he didn’t have words to explain what hearing the little sounds she made when she experimentally rocked against him did for him.

He was walking a dangerous line already, he knew that, but the second she started to properly move, all thoughts of his impending orgasm faded away, and while there was still a tightness in him that was crying out for attention, Severus wanted desperately in that moment to feel her come undone on and around him, and he tightened his grip on her hips suddenly.

If Hermione noticed, she didn’t say anything, though both of her hands had settled on his shoulders as she moved her hips over his, taking him into her body with the sort of familiarity that neither of them had any business knowing, let alone understanding.

“Fuck, Severus…” She swore, forcing her eyes open to peer down at him, lips parted as she sucked in ragged breaths, and he grinned at the way she was looking at him.

“...I agree,” He murmured, though Hermione didn’t have much of a chance to respond before he was suddenly sitting up, his hands sliding from her hips to wrap more snugly around her, one hand cupping her bottom as he started to help her with her thrusts.

She let out a surprised cry at that, her head falling back as she felt him start to really move inside of her, though she straightened back up again after a moment, somehow finding his lips again as her fingers tangled in his hair.

“...I… I’m so _full_ , Severus… Y-You feel-”

“-so do you,” He agreed, the hitch in his voice saying more about how dangerously close he was than anything else, and their hands tightened their grips on each other with the knowledge.

“Hermione,” He breathed, her name almost like a prayer on his lips. “I-I’m… I won’t… not much longer.”

“I know,” She agreed, but still neither of them stopped, though Severus somehow managed to take one of his hands off of her bottom and slide it around and between them, finding her clit and giving it a rub in the hopes of maybe getting her there first.

She swore again, her grip on him tightening, and Severus knew the exact moment that he’d succeeded just before it happened, her face starting to morph into something beautiful before her lips parted in a little cry of ecstasy and she-

He wasn’t quite sure about the rest because he was diving right off of the cliff after her, the edges of his vision going white as electric shocks ran up his spine, though he would discover later that he’d been gripping her hip so hard he’d left marks.

When he came back to his senses more, it was to find that they’d flopped over onto their sides in a tangled mess of limbs, that he was still inside of her for all that he knew he wouldn’t be for much longer, and Hermione was looking at him like he was the most beautiful man in all of creation.

“...I’ll do better next time,” He murmured with a small, self-deprecating laugh, the sound deepening a touch when Hermione gently smacked him on the chest.

“Try not to look so smug, Severus,” She scolded, though it was hard to take her seriously when she was grinning as much as he was.

He chuckled again, his hold on her tightening a fraction, a soft sort of sigh escaping him as they folded a bit more fully into one another.

“...I’m glad you stayed.”

“So am I,” Hermione murmured, nuzzling against his chest a bit as she settled more fully against him, and Severus was aware of their breathing having synced up.

He was sure their heartbeats had as well.

“...though I-I meant it when I said I’m not leaving, Severus,” Hermione continued, voice soft, a small note of uncertainty in her gaze when she pulled back to lock eyes with him.

“And I assure you, my witch, that I meant it when I asked if that would actually be a problem, because it most _certainly_ isn’t one for me.”

“ _Your_ witch?” Oh, but her tone had turned hopeful again, hadn’t it, and something wicked flitted across Severus’ gaze upon hearing it.

“Yes. _Mine_.”

And he set about proving to her just what all that entailed, spending the rest of the evening doing so until they finally drifted off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

If Severus was surprised when he awoke the next morning, to find Hermione still in bed with him, he couldn’t tell if it was because she was _actually_ still in bed with him, or if it was because she was straddling him…

...doing some sort of spellwork over him as she muttered to herself.

His hands settled on her hips to silently let her know he was awake and _very_ interested in her current position over him, but he didn’t make any sort of immediate attempts to speak, instead trying to figure out just what exactly she was doing.

After a few minutes, he still didn’t have a clue.

“...Hermione, wha-”

“Ssh.”

“Did you just shush me?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again. Be quiet for a moment.”

“I thought you _liked_ my voice.”

“I do, but right now I need you to be qui- Severus, please stop - oh! - that’s not fair!”

“And I’ll keep doing it-” He pushed his hips and his morning erection up against her for emphasis. “-until you tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m testing our magicks.”

Well, that got his curiosity up.

“Why?”

“To figure out why last night was so perfect.” She explained, almost as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

He blinked at that, but fell silent, unsure how exactly he _could_ respond.

It would be a few more minutes of Hermione casting spells over him while she tried not to squirm in his lap before she dropped her wand to the side and moved to stretch out on top of him, her legs still on either side of his hips.

“We’re compatible.”

“You needed a spell to tell you that?”

“I needed a spell to tell me _how_ compatible,” She countered, playfully arching an eyebrow at him, her fingers idly tapping out a mindless pattern on his chest.

“And just how compatible are we, then?” He asked, his voice a low, warm purr.

“Our magicks work at a ninety eight percent functionality together.”

That got his attention, his hands falling still where they’d been tracing patterns along the small of her back and up her spine.

“Molly and Arthur Weasley only work at an eighty five percent.”

“Uh huh.”

“We’re a _ninety eight_?”

“Uh huh.”

“...there’s never been a reported case of anything higher than a ninety five, Hermione.”

“Consider us the first, then,” She purred, her hips wiggling again as she sought to distract him the way he’d tried to distract her just a few minutes previously.

“...you’re going to be the death of me,” He growled before quickly flipping her over onto her back.

“Hopefully only a little bit,” She teased back, though whatever else she was going to say was lost to the ether as they started to celebrate.

And so it continued for the next several weeks, with days spent either in the Apothecary or out hunting salamanders while the nights were spent either having deep, drawn-out theoretical academic discussions or wrapped in each other’s arms as they solidified their holdings over one another.

And Severus had no doubt that Hermione held him entirely in her hands, his heart having fallen into her lap the moment they’d started screaming at one another in the doorway of his shoppe.

She _knew_ him, and he knew her, and there was nowhere else he thought that he belonged except by her side.

Maybe that was what made it so hard when they both realized that her study was coming to an end.

Because Hermione… She’d have to go back to England, wouldn’t she?

They were standing in the kitchen early one morning, the sun just starting to break through the fog that Severus could see out the window, their arms wrapped tight around one another after Hermione had tucked her head up under his chin.

“...I can’t leave you.”

“You know you must, witch.”

She shook her head at that, pulling back just enough so that she could peer up at him with watery eyes.

“No, I-I could send them my writings by Floo, an-”

“What about the specimens?”

“They can travel that way, too, Severus.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “And you know - you _know_ , Hermione - that as soon as people read your research, they’re going to be coming here to discuss things with you personally.”

“They might no-”

“That they’ll come here to try and duplicate it, or they’ll try to see if they can do more.”

“...so, what?” She sighed, starting to pout a bit. “I’m just supposed to leave you here? For an indeterminate amount of time while I go talk about salamanders?”

“You have to finish your Mastery, Hermione.”

“I could finish it right here, too. I have one of the greatest Potions Masters of all time as my paramore, and he-”

“I can’t be your Master, Hermione,” Severus quickly cut her off. “Not with… Not with what we have found between us. It will color everything that you do, ruin everything you have worked for, if you were to suddenly become my apprentice. You’d be discredited immediately.”

“...so, you’re… you’re really saying I have to go? Without you?”

He gave a nod, though it was clear by his gaze that he liked it even less than she did.

Maybe that was why he wasn’t surprised by the question she asked next.

“...couldn’t you come back with me?”

Yes. He could. But he also couldn’t, and he was at a loss for words.

“I know you can’t, but…” Hermione was shaking her head, having known the answer before she’d even asked the question. “...I wish you would.”

“I’d have to stand trial, Hermione.”

“You’d have Harry on your side.”

“I’ve been dead for over six years, now. To return suddenly… It wouldn’t-”

“The War is over, Severus. You could be… Whoever you wanted to be, really.” She chuckled suddenly, giving him a faint squeeze.

“You could be Sebastian Snode, still. Open up a little apothecary shoppe in London and be my cool lover who looks suspiciously like an old teacher of mine, but everyone would be too afraid to ask if it were _really_ him or not.”

Severus let out a low chuckle of his own at that, but shook his head.

“You know I can’t, love. I couldn’t… I don’t want the fame. I like being unknown here to everyone except you.” He let out a small sigh. “You’re the only person I ever want _knowing me_ ever again, Hermione.”

He leaned forward to press his forehead against hers again, their noses brushing against each other for a moment before they kissed and temporarily forgot about the problem at hand.

“I-I’ll be back in a month,” Hermione murmured just shy of two weeks later as she shrank down her luggage and tucked it away into her coat jacket.

Severus reached out to pull her close, one arm wrapping around her waist while his other hand tangled in the wild riot of her curls to hold her head in the right position so he could kiss her breathless, only pulling back when he felt her knees start to give out in a sure sign of needing something _more_.

“I love you, Hermione Granger,” He murmured against her lips before shifting to press a long and lingering kiss to her forehead, breathing in the familiar mint and vanilla smell of her even as she took in the wood-smoked whiskey and oud and bergamot smell of him.

“And I you, Severus Sebastian Snode Snape.”

There was another kiss that followed before Hermione pulled back and stepped away from him, giving him one last longing and loving look before she turned and Apparated away to the station that would take her back to London and the life she knew before him.

Severus made it all of about fifteen minutes before he muttered ‘fuck this’ aloud to his cabin, grabbed his wand and his traveling cloak, locked up the house and made his way to the apothecary where he hung up a hastily written ‘be back eventually’ sign in the doorway and took off after his witch.

He made it to the Floo station that would take her to New York in time to see her disappear in a flash of green flames, though there was no indication that she’d seen him coming after her.

He had to wait another thirty minutes before he could book passage to New York himself, and made it _there_ just in time to lose her to the London terminal.

“Bloody _fucking_ -”

“Sir?” The young station attendant next to him piped up. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, there is, actually,” Severus half-snarled back, though he was careful not to get too terribly nasty with the young man considering he was just doing his job.

“I just let the love of my life get away, and I have to get her back.”

“W-Where was she going, sir?”

“London.”

“I can get you on the next transport out sir, but it won’t be for another four-”

“Yes, yes, whatever the cost, I’ll purchase the spot. I can wait for four hours.”

“...um… _days_ , sir.”

In that moment, Severus suddenly realized why so many of his students had been afraid of him, because even _he_ was a little afraid of the reaction he had to that news.

Once security had stunned him and put a body bind curse on him and gotten him to somewhere quiet while he calmed back down, he listened as he was informed that there was scheduled maintenance on the New York to London Floo connection. It had been a planned outage for months, and the last of the travelers had gone out that morning.

The same group that Hermione had been with.

“I can get you to Chicago, and you can reroute from Chicago to Quebec and _then_ to London-” The station master was telling him. “-but I can’t get you to London myself for another four days.”

Severus muttered something along the lines of ‘bullocks to that’ apologized again for his earlier behavior - they’d seemed to be a bit more understanding once he explained the significance of his relationship with his witch - and made his way back out of the station and to the nearest bank.

Maybe the Floo network couldn’t get him to London, but Muggles certainly could.

He hated flying, in all honesty. Hated being trapped in a small tin can with a bunch of strangers who liked to sneeze on him or push their chairs back into his legs or let their screaming brats run up and down the aisles for fun.

But for her, for Hermione, for _his witch_ he’d do it a hundred thousand times.

By the time he touched down in London it was the next day, and Severus growled as he realized he’d have to book a room for the night, deciding to put himself up in a muggle establishment instead of risking The Leaky Cauldron.

He wasn’t far from the Ministry though, just a couple of blocks walking distance, and he had hopes that maybe he’d get to see Hermione in the morning as she made her way in to defend her thesis and sit her practicum.

He couldn’t sleep that night, spending most of it trying to find a comfortable position in which to lay when the person who was supposed to be in bed with him _wasn’t_ , and when he did finally wake up, it was with a familiar ache in his loins that reminded him that it had been a _whole three days_ since he’d last made his witch shatter in ecstasy.

Thank Merlin for cold showers.

And hotel hair conditioner.

He skipped breakfast that morning, his stomach too nervous about what he was about to do to allow him to eat anything, and even the tea he tried to ingest made his stomach twist weirdly.

But, he cleaned himself up and got himself ready, putting on a brave face that he didn’t entirely feel before heading out and making his way straight to the Ministry.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Hermione up ahead of him, a grin nearly breaking out across his features, but he soon realized that there was a pair of dreadfully familiar faces with her.

“You’ll be just fine, Hermione.” He could overheard Potter telling her. “You’ve done your research, and you know you can deliver an answer to any question they ask of you.”

“Harry’s right-” Ron followed, jabbing what appeared to be part of a donut at the woman, though he at least had the decency to swallow what was already in his mouth before continuing. “-you’ve always been a few steps ahead of us, and the fact that you’ve tackled this dual Mastery thing as quickly as you have is proof of that.”

“I know, I just… I still feel weird about today.” She was hugging herself, and Severus ached to rush over to her and take her into his arms for himself.

“Probably jetlag,” Potter offered, looking around him for a moment before he helped the other two inside the telephone booth that would take them down into the Ministry, and Severus couldn’t hear anything else that was being said.

Getting inside himself was a bit trickier, but somehow he managed it, keeping his head low and thankful that the couple of charms he’d placed on his visage were holding well enough so that no one really _looked_ at him and recognized him for who he really was, and it wasn’t long before he’d managed to track the Trio back down and pick up on their conversation once more.

“-ust ready to go back, is all.” Hermione was murmuring, and it didn’t take much for Severus to realize what she was talking about going back _to_.

“Yes, but why?” Potter asked, and Snape rolled his eyes, stepping onto the moving staircase with them that would take them to where Hermione’s practicum would be held.

Surprisingly, it was Ron who made the guess before Hermione could offer an explanation.

“...you met someone, didn’t you?”

Was it Severus’ imagination, or did Weasley sound a bit hurt by that?

“Of course she didn’t,” Potter laughed, rolling his eyes as he playfully bumped Hermione with his shoulder.

Except Hermione wasn’t laughing with him, and she was very pointedly not looking at either of them.

“...oh, bloody hell, Hermione…”

“Is it a match?” Severus could hear Weasley murmur, and while Potter might not’ve understood what was being asked of Hermione, Severus knew that she did.

“...an off the charts one.”

“Higher than ours?”

“Higher than your mum and dad’s, Ron.”

“...what’s happening right now?”

“Hermione went to the States and found herself her soulmatch, mate.”

Ron pulled Hermione into his arms then, giving her a warm hug that Severus was only mildly jealous to witness - though he was decidedly less okay with seeing the kiss to her forehead - before letting her go with a nod of approval.

“We’ll want to meet him, of course, when you’re ready.”

“I still have no idea what’s going on right now…”

“The Muggles use the term soul _mate_ , Harry,” Hermione offered, and Severus felt a rush of something when he saw the pleased blush that stained her cheeks with the admission.

“I thought that was some sort of Muggle fairytale bullshite?”

“Not exactly, no. But it’s complicated-” Hermione was explaining, leading them down the hallway to her practicum room - the same room Severus had done his own practicum in, he idly noted - and Severus was pleased to note that he blended in with the Ministry officials that were heading in the same direction, clearly her test givers.

“It always is,” Ron agreed. “But we’ll still want to meet him, yeah?”

Hermione didn’t reply to that, but Severus noted the way her shoulders slumped a bit, and a part of him hurt with the knowledge that his desire to keep secrets was causing her harm.

Because her friends were important to her, weren’t they? And why _shouldn’t_ she want to share the love of her life with them?

But, her practicum was starting, and everyone had taken their seats, and Severus sat back to watch as his witch was tested on everything she could be to prove she was worth the Masters she was reaching for.

By the end of it, he was sure that it would be at least a solid thirty minutes or more before he’d be able to stand again he was so impressed by what she’d done, and he could see the Ministry officials nodding their heads as they made notes and marked down their thoughts on her defense.

It was then, while Hermione was allowing herself a moment to breathe that she happened to look over in his direction, her eyes sliding over him for a moment before they returned to settle on him, narrowing slightly in confusion, before they widened in understanding, and Severus could see the pulse in her throat start to thump a bit harder as her cheeks flushed in excitement.

But they couldn’t do anything, not just yet, for the head of her practicum council was getting to his feet as he cleared his throat, glancing around the room for a moment before he read out the results of her testing.

“We, the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom and the European Nations, on behalf of the Order of Potion Masters International, do hereby solemnly declare that you - Hermione Jean Granger - have _joined_ its most prestigious ranks with your show of dedication and hardwork in today’s practicum. Congratulations, young lady-” He finished as the room burst into congratulatory applause. “-you should be quite proud of yourself!”

“Here, here,” Snape murmured, ignoring the way the young woman in front of him stiffened slightly at the sound of his voice, though she shook the brief fleeting notion of terror off, sure that her ears were playing tricks on her.

Severus Snape was dead, after all.

Watching as Harry and Ron got up to congratulate their friend, Severus remained in his seat for a moment later before slowly pushing himself to his feet, folding his arms in front of his chest and desperately wishing for his teaching robes in that moment as he descended the stairs and made his way over to the trio.

“Congratulations, Miss Granger,” He murmured when there was a natural lull in the conversation, and this time he _didn’t_ miss the way both Potter and Weasley suddenly straightened up, looking over to him with wide eyes as they were struck with a sense of familiarity over that voice.

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured, her eyes getting watery, and it didn’t take a genius to realize why she was about to start crying.

“...do we know you?” Ron was asking, but Severus ignored him in favor of stepping closer, extending a hand out towards his witch and feeling his heart calm again when she took it, pulling her into his arms with a practiced ease as he bent to give her a small kiss in congratulations.

“Oy!” Ron shouted, the sound mimicked by Harry and a chorus of surprised voices went up around the room once everyone realized what was happening.

And in the chaos, in the familiar taste of his witch’s lips, Severus forgot completely about his concealment charms, about the joys of being unknown, and the magic faded away to leave just him. Severus Snape.

Standing there in the Ministry of Magic kissing a bloody war hero like his life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

It’s certainly what he was thinking six weeks later when he was standing in front of the Wizengamot at his final hearing, Hermione standing by his side with his hand in hers as they awaited to hear what his fate would be.

But, Hermione - as usual - had been right. Once they’d gotten over their initial shocks of seeing the Bat of Hogwarts alive and well, both Ron and Harry had jumped to his defense, making sure that he’d been able to stay at home under house arrest while he awaited trial instead of being sent to Azkaban.

The problem, of course, was that the list against him was quite long compared to the list for him.

His saving grace? The woman at his side. If he’d been a truly terrible man, there would be no way he’d be a soulmatch for her. That’s not the way magic worked, and every person sitting on the Wizengamot knew it.

So, yes, perhaps he’d joined the Death Eaters when he’d been young and stupid and hurting, but he’d learned the error of his ways and had given it up, had turned against the Dark Lord to be a spy for Albus Dumbledore, a man he’d killed in an act of mercy to end the old man’s suffering.

Plus - and this was the really important part - he was the actual _soulmatch_ of the Boy Who Lived’s best friend.

Naturally, they let him go, though there were a few stipulations to his release that he didn’t particularly like…

He’d get over it, though - and really, what was a month of community service with the War Orphans Project? - and at the end of it all, he still had Hermione.

A fact that she was keen on reminding him of that evening once they’d managed to escape the celebratory dinner Potter had decided to throw him and had made it safely back to their new flat.

They’d made it all of five feet into the door before she was turning around and pushing him up against it, her hands in his hair as she pulled him down towards her for a kiss that made his toes curl and his blood start heading south.

“They’ve taken all the monitoring charms off of you, yes?” She muttered against his lips a few minutes later as the two of them were going about stripping themselves and each other of clothing.

“Yes, thank _Merlin_.”

Hermione grinned wickedly at that and Severus decided in that moment that they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom just yet.

The kitchen table turned out to be sturdy enough, which was good considering it had been six weeks since he’d last buried himself inside his witch, and she was keen on telling him just how desperately she needed a good filling.

Magical house arrest, after all, meant that the Ministry kept tabs on not just your location, but your physical stats as well, and neither one of them had been all that okay with the idea of the Ministry knowing when and how frequently they shagged.

Which was a lot.

It was a few hours later, once they’d finally made it to the bedroom, that found Severus peering up at his witch from between her legs, a smug smile on his features as he took in her current state of twitching languidness that had him suddenly thinking about something else entirely, the smugness turning into something much more adoring as he shifted to move over her.

“Give… Give me five, Severus,” Hermione sputtered, but Severus only chuckled before leaning over to steal her lips, one hand coming up to gently cup her cheek while the other kept him propped up above her.

“I’ll give you more than that, if you wish.”

She blinked up at him, clearly not comprehending.

“I’ll give you life, if you want mine.”

“...Severus?”

“Will you take it, Hermione Granger? Will you take my life and mix it with yours for as long as we both shall live?”

Oh, but she understood it now, didn’t she?

“Severus…”

“Marry me, witch. Stay with me tonight, and every night.”

“...told you I was never going to leave again, didn’t I?”

And then they were celebrating for an entirely different reason entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> I truly hope you all get as much enjoyment out of reading this as I did writing it! I'd love to know what you think!
> 
> There is a beautiful piece of artwork that accompanies this story done by the truly amazing LunaP99 that you can find [here on her tumblr](https://lunap999.tumblr.com/post/614209290685792256/happy-snape-big-bang-day-i-joined-forces-with-the#notes)! Go show her some love, too, fam!


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